


Wish

by keltieful



Series: Wish-verse [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keltieful/pseuds/keltieful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Christmas rolls around on Tarsus IV, Spock is cautiously curious. Who better to lead him through his first Christmas than the least logical being he knows?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish

**Author's Note:**

> This is my KSAdvent 2015 submission. I implore you to go check out the LJ master post (http://ksadvent.livejournal.com/) and look through everyone else's awesome contributions. This fandom has some crazy talent. :D

**Title:** Wish

 **Author:** keltieful

 **Beta:**  [ceruleansmile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleansmile)

 **Series:** STR/AU

 **Rating:** Teen/PG-13

 **Warnings:** mentions of past child abuse

 **Length:** 6,000+ words

 **Summary:** When Christmas rolls around on Tarsus IV, Spock is cautiously curious. Who better to lead him through his first Christmas than the least logical being he knows?

* * *

 

Spock brushed yet another leafless branch out of his way. In the distance he could faintly make out the sound of children laughing. His mind conjured up images of children, wrapped up in reindeer printed sweaters and puffy red and green pants, playing games and enjoying themselves. He had walked past the main park in town just three days ago and spied a similar scene.

It had stumped him, as the illogical actions of Humans often did. Why did young Humans congregate in open green spaces, just to chase after one another or exclude one individual while everyone else hid? His mother had attempted to explain but it was futile. Spock could not comprehend it.

So, he had waited until his mother had enough errands to run to take up the majority of the day, donned the warmest clothes he possessed and set off to find the most illogical being in his acquaintance.

James Tiberius Kirk.

Spock did not like James, call me Jim, Kirk. Nor did he dislike the younger boy. Favouritism was illogical. The majority of the time, he had no thoughts whatsoever about the Kirk. He knew James was highly intelligent. That he was aesthetically pleasing. That he had frequent, dangerous allergic reactions. That he lived with his aunt and uncle. That he kept to himself, despite being what Spock's mother often called, a people person.

James Kirk had no friends. At school, he did his allotted work and was genial to the other 25 students. He did not seem to like Spock. He did not seem to dislike Spock. In fact, it was highly probable that he did not even notice Spock's existence when their teacher wasn't pushing them together.

Their teacher, who happened to be Spock's mother.

Had he been raised the Terran way, perhaps Spock would feel embarrassment. It was only conjecture on his part, but other students displayed physical signs of embarrassment when their parents were around their peers. Either way, Spock's mother had spent many years training to teach. It would be an illogical waste for her skills not to be put to use during the year long duration of their stay. It was simply unfortunate that she felt Spock and Jim should consistently work together.

"Shit! Here comes devil ears. Doesn't he have something better to do than wallowing with us mere Humans?" Connor, a boy the same age as James, whispered. Unfortunately, Connor had been preoccupied with making 'spit balls' when Amanda first introduced the class to Vulcans. If he'd been paying attention, he'd know that Spock's senses were around seven times as powerful as his own.

Spock scanned the park and raised another mental shield. No doubt his control would be in tatters by the time he was done. He almost preferred Vulcan. At least the derogatory statements weren't accompanied by emotional projections. Disdain, contempt, jealousy and other emotions Spock didn't comprehend all tore at his shields when in the company of his peers. Meditation had been paramount to his mental well being on Tarsus IV. Without the three extra hours he'd incorporated in his schedule, there would no doubt be a repeat of the incident from his youth.

When he finally spotted James, blue eyes bored into his own. There was a 76.59% likelihood James had been watching him for a while. The knowledge did not affect Spock in any way. It was simply filed into the back of his mind. James had a gift for knowing when someone was looking for him. It was not something Spock questioned. James Kirk was James Kirk. His intricacies were what made him who he was.

"Why do young Humans waste their time with such frivolous activities rather than engage in useful pursuits in their free time?" Spock asked as soon as he was within hearing range.

James closed his eyes and tipped his head up against the tree supporting his figure. It was a typical reaction to Spock's presence. Eventually, he would see fit to answer Spock's query.

"They're all too stupid?" James finally spoke, after 118 seconds of inactivity. It was an answer Spock had already considered. However, James' tone suggested he was employing sarcasm.

"It's a mental health thing. I think. They need to burn off excess energy, use their imagination, that sort of thing. Makes them into well balanced Humans." James said with a sigh. It was an interesting conclusion.

Vulcan children did not play. There was a short period, between birth and the age of three, where they were allowed to express emotion and time spent in contact with other clan members was encouraged. After that, their emotional training began and logical puzzles replaced time spent in family member's laps. School began when they were five and finished whenever they completed the set amount of work. Knowledge, logic and emotional suppression were what formed a well balanced Vulcan.

Spock sat down beside James. Although he maintained perfect posture at all times, he let his back rest lightly against the rough bark. Through layers of clothing, a soft presence blanketed Spock. It was not that the tree had thoughts or emotions. It was not a sentient creature. However, it was alive and gave off a distinct feeling.

"You're not done here, are you?" James asked, looking sideways through his lashes at Spock. He considered the question. It felt unnecessary to answer. He would not have sat down if he didn't have more questions.

"Why are they attired as such?" Spock questioned, eyes focused on the garish display of reds, greens, silver and golds. Though he may not see the logic in a lot of things Humans did, they usually displayed some sense of aesthetics. The mishmash of glaring colours was slightly painful to his sensitive Vulcan optical nerves. Enough to consider implementing the use of his second eyelid.

Rather than verbally respond to his question, Jim took the time to raise his eyebrows and look Spock up and down.

Spock leant further into the tree using it as an anchor. He was inclined to assume James was mocking him. Although the vast majority of his interactions with other life forms included such treatment, it still hurt. Hence the need to centre himself. Spock was yet to meet anyone who could draw out his buried emotions with the same nonchalance. He riled Spock up without care or effort.

"It's December 21st. Why else would they be wearing Christmas crap?" James scoffed and stood. Spock watched as he walked away. Watched as he laughed when someone questioned why he'd been talking to 'the freak'.

Spock waited until he was gone, before pulling out his PADD and researching Christmas. It was not something he had ever heard of before. But the widespread knowledge amongst Humans had stirred his curiosity.

That night, Spock finished reading every article available on the topic of Christmas. He'd listened to what he now knew as Christmas Carols and seen pictures of the one Humans referred to as 'Santa Claus' or 'Saint Nicholas'. He'd read tale after tale of this, by all accounts, jolly man's travels with his flying reindeer and sack of presents. Traditions of present swapping, eating outrageously large meals with extended family members and decorating one's dwelling confused and intrigued him.

It was illogical. The whole holiday pandered to spending excessively however, at its core, lay something which spoke to Spock. The celebration of those closest.

It was an overtly emotional holiday. A very Human celebration. Yet, as Spock listened to his mother humming downstairs, he wanted to share it with her. He just wasn't sure how. His knowledge was intellectual, not practical. He did not have the necessary skills to change that. He required assistance.

 

* * *

 

"Oh hell no! You can leave me out of whatever crazy idea you've cooked up in that alien brain of yours." James slammed the door in his face. It was most peculiar behaviour. From behind the wood, footsteps approached and the soft voice of James' aunt, Elizabeth inquired about Spock's presence. He listened to them arguing back and forth until the door suddenly opened again and Spock was dragged inside.

"Good morning Spock, it's lovely to see you dear. Sorry about Jimmy, he's just hormonal." Elizabeth motioned him inside. James stood red faced by the stairs. Spock noted the strong waves of embarrassment coming from the younger boy. Perhaps all Humans were embarrassed by maternal figures?

When Elizabeth patted him on the shoulder, her skin brushed his uncovered ear. Concern and approval pierced through his shields. He flinched involuntarily.

"I'm sorry! Jimmy warns me not to touch you every time you come over but I guess I keep forgetting. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." She hurried to explain, hands dancing just off his skin like she wanted to touch but knew better.

"It is... fine. I should have reinforced my shields before my arrival." Spock said, most of his mental energy focused on restoring his equilibrium.

"Come on, let's go upstairs." Jim murmured, sharp eyes never leaving Spock's face. His hand reached out and snagged on the corner of Spock's sleeve. He pulled Spock upstairs, along the corridor and into his room.

It was a tidy space. Functional and without many accessories. Not too unlike his own personal space. It was a place James clearly relaxed in. It never failed to fascinate Spock how James' demeanour changed as he walked through the door. It was like each step into the room shed a little of the façade James kept up around other people. By the time he was sprawled across the double bed in the far corner, he seemed almost vulnerable.

Today, James crossed the room and sat on the chair at his desk, spinning in slow circles. With each rotation, he pointedly ignored Spock's presence. Through the window behind him, Spock could see the thick line of trees marking the edge of a forest which covered 35.79% of the continent.

Tired of waiting, Spock walked forward and sunk into the loshiraq position. The thick cream, gold and blue rug beneath him kept most of the cold at bay. Although it was mildly uncomfortable to have someone watching him meditate, Spock blocked out all feeling.

When he came back into himself, James was reading a book. Spock watched him from his place on the floor. The silence was comfortable and Spock was uncertain if he should break it.

"If you take a picture it'll last longer." James said as he flipped the page. He appeared to be focused on the pages however, his eyes were unfocused on the page. Spock flitted his eyes over the rest of Jim's form. His body was leaning towards him. Time on Tarsus IV had honed Spock's ability to read body language. All of Jim's attention was focused on him. Humans were odd creatures.

"Indeed, however I am uncertain why I would require a photograph." Spock replied out of habit. While he did not understand the illogic that was Human emotion, he had studied their language before leaving Vulcan. It was often to his advantage, for those around him to underestimate his capabilities.

"Don't worry about it, it's stupid." Jim sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. "Why're you here anyway?"

"I require your assistance. After our discussion yesterday, I researched the celebration of Christmas," Spock paused, "Despite its highly illogical foundations, I can see the benefits of participating whilst my family are on Tarsus IV. It is unlikely my mother will be among her kind for such a period in the future and she would, no doubt, enjoy such a celebration in our own household."

"So, you need me to help you change from a grinch into an elf?" James frowned. Spock could almost feel the rapid fire way James' keen mind thought over every possible outcome before making a move. It was an admirable trait. One Spock was sure would make James a formidable opponent.

"I think I can do that." When James smiled, it was like dawn breaking for the first time. Soft, sweet and almost unbearably beautiful. Spock stored the strange thought away.

They sat together, James reading and Spock finishing his work for the academy in silence. It was unexpectedly relaxing, to be with someone else while still working on their individual pursuits. Perhaps his mother had been onto something when she'd suggested they work together after all. When the clock finally indicated that it was a suitable hour to begin their Christmas shopping, they packed up their belongings and left.

"Okay, so what Christmas traditions are least offensive to your logical Vulcan sensibilities?" James asked as they trudged into the main square. On each of the four sides, shops advertised their Christmas themed wares while couples sat together holding steaming drinks in the small central park.

Spock raised a single eyebrow at James' choice of wording but said nothing to refute it.

"Baked foods seem reasonable for this time of year. It would be more logical to simply replicate the meal fully prepared however, I believe it is the act of cooking which makes the meal appeal. Would I be correct?" Spock asked, looking to James for direction. He just stood there, unresponsive.

"You don't get what makes home cooked meals better than replicated shit- food. Replicated food." James responded in a flurry of movement. He was being quite-

"Do you actually feel any emotions at all?" James whispered. For some reason, he looked lost and so very alone. His tone certainly indicated feelings of sadness. He would not be the first Human to feel uncomfortable with the thought. On the journey from Vulcan, several Humans had tried to coax emotional responses from Spock or his father. Their efforts were in vain.

"I do not. I could, if I were to lower my controls however, it is not advised. Vulcan emotions are powerful, volatile, dangerous things. It is why we value logic so highly." Spock explained. He felt something stir deep inside him at the look of disappointment on James' face. He would identify it tonight during meditation. It should be quite the enlightening session.

"Why don't we start with a present?" Jim murmured, already heading off to the shop closest to their position. Spock felt the urge to frown as he watched the younger boy walk away. He dismissed the notion and followed James' retreating back.

 

* * *

 

"Just write on the goddamned piece of paper. I don't care. Just think about something you'd like and write it down." James huffed and turned away from Spock. Behind him, Spock watched the woman at the counter attempt to hide her obvious amusement. It was curious.

After looking through every store in town, James had finally pulled Spock into the post office. The lady behind the counter, her name tag announced her as 'Prancer', which Spock assumed was not her real name, had given them both a piece of paper. Paper decorated with snowflakes, snowmen and elves. The words, To Santa, were written in bold cursive across the top. James had explained that they were to write a 'Christmas wish' on the paper, fold it and place it in their fireplace. Santa's elves were then supposed to magically visit, take the paper and if you'd been 'good' enough, have Santa grant your wish.

While James had absolutely no trouble deciding what he'd wish for, Spock was unsure. Regardless of the validity of Santa and his wish giving abilities, there was nothing Spock wished for. Perhaps in the past, he may have tossed the words acceptance or friend around. Now he had James. He'd already gotten his wish.

Like a bolt of lightning, inspiration struck. With precise movements, Spock found himself writing in a curled, vertical script. It was a wish not even his father could fault him for. His eyes followed the spiralled letters. Three months was a longer time than he'd previously assumed.

"James, I am done." Spock folded the paper, making sure the edges matched perfectly. He looked up to see James eyeing him warily.

"You're done? After all that, you just wrote something down? Something you want?" James paused, frowning. "For gods sakes, call me Jim."

He might never admit it but, pushing Jim's hypothetical buttons was… fun. That in itself was a mildly disturbing thought.

"We have yet to acquire a suitable gift for my mother." Spock clasped his hands behind his back. It was a trait which never failed to make Jim look at him differently. Almost like he had to take a second to remember where he was, reconcile who he was with. For 0.85 of a second, Jim displayed physical attributes commonly associated with fear. Like almost everything else Spock had noticed about Jim, it was intriguing. What could have caused such an instinctual reaction? Vulcan was without child abuse, however the concept was not foreign to Spock. Jim's behaviour, now that he'd given himself reason to analyse it, did display certain characteristics shared with abuse victims.

Something hot and dark flared low in Spock's gut. He diverted his attention to clamping down on the emotion and neutralising it. Once it was locked away under the level of his shields, he took a moment to focus on his breathing. There was an emotional residue sitting in his muscles. He wanted to hit something. It was most distracting.

"Maybe we could make her something?" Jim suggested, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. Spock raised an eyebrow. Did Jim have scissors and glue stashed somewhere in his room? A stack of coloured papers, some glitter, a few stamps and stickers he'd somehow failed to notice? Spock bit his tongue until he tasted copper.

"You play the ka'athyra, can't you write her a song?" Hands buried in his pockets, Jim looked up at him. For 1.04 seconds, it seemed Jim's eyes were bigger and bluer than usual. Spock almost shook himself to rid the thought. It was already apparent that he required meditation. However, a part of him did not want to leave Jim's side. It was fascinating. Just a few hours ago, he would have simply left. Now, he was unsure. Unlike many Humans, Jim didn't make petty attempts to elicit emotional reactions from him. He didn't need to. Even then, Spock felt comforted by his presence. Jim's mind was a gentle buzz against his shields.

Was his mind as dynamic as he thought it would be? What would it feel like, to touch such a robust mind, to hold it with his own?

Spock turned on his heel and began walking away. Never had he entertained such thoughts about another being. It was inappropriate, to say the least.

 

* * *

 

Walking on ice was not a particularly fun task. The first time he tried, Spock imagined he look somewhat similar to baby animals attempting their first steps. He quickly banished the thought. It was counterproductive, something better suited to Jim than himself. Instead he focused on the properties of ice. The way the grain would form. It didn't take long for Spock to be walking as gracefully as usual. In fact, the slightest slide accompanying could be considered reminiscent to the shifting sands of his homeworld.

He walked out of the gate and along the road.

Last night’s meditation had been interesting. In the course of two days he had developed a new appreciation for James Kirk. He was no longer impartial. If he were to admit to feeling anything, Spock might say that he was distressed by the revelation. For the entirety of his life, he'd attempted to follow the Surakian tenets to the letter, with various pitfalls and failures. His Vulcan peers were quick to state that he was simply too Human to live the Vulcan way. To be a Vulcan. But, when he'd been thrust amongst Humans, he was too Vulcan. He was not, as his parents implied, a child of two worlds.

Perhaps that was why he'd taken to Jim. Neither conformed to any idea model. Neither fit into the preconceived roles expected of them. There was a certain understanding, an empathy no one else seemed able or willing to give.

James was James and Spock liked everything about him. He was not the Kelvin baby, born in space to two heroes. He was Jim. He was crinkled blue eyes and a smile that later hurt his cheeks. He was the small tick he developed under his left eye when Spock raised an eyebrow. He was bright cheeks and scruffy jeans and the slightest smell of grease. He was reckless and illogical and intelligent.

Jim's suggestion to write a song was appreciated. There was logic in music. And his mother always enjoyed hearing Spock play. He might never admit it to anyone, but Spock enjoyed performing for his mother. It was nice, seeing her so happy and knowing he was the reason. He had already written more than half a song for her before they'd left Vulcan. He'd just needed to finish it. Her present was almost completed. Spock only needed a Human to listen to it. He wanted to know if the right feelings were evoked which was not something he could do himself.

Sometimes, Spock wondered if the Vulcan education he was receiving was detrimental to his ability to function as a member of the Federation. He required Jim's assistance too often to dismiss the idea.

Up ahead, Spock noticed a group of his schoolmates surrounding someone. Through the throng of people, he could just make out blonde hair. His heart rate quickened by 12.08%.

"-t's with you and the alien freak? You gay for him or somethin'? Got an alien fetish we don't know about?" Connor sneered, walking towards whoever was backed against the oak. Spock ruthlessly crushed his emotions. Everything inside him was screaming to act. His very blood felt like it was boiling. He could not lose control. These were not Vulcans.

"Not gonna talk, eh? Did he fuck your throat too hard?" Connor's hand grabbed Jim chin and tilted his head up. Blue eyes were empty, completely apathetic. Jim looked dead, the black bags under his eyes accentuating the look.

Spock rested a hand against the closest tree. He dug deep and borrowed its strength and resilience. He funnelled it into his shields. He couldn't afford to lose control around Humans. Not when his instincts screamed for retribution. Humans were so fragile.

"You're a worthless piece of shit, Jim. No wonder your mum sent you here. Bet she can't stand to look at you." Connor spat. He roughly pushed Jim's head back into the tree.

Spock moved forwards.

Connor pulled his fist back.

Spock caught it. He squeezed, just enough to hear the weak bones creak. The spectators stepped back, eyeing him wearily, which may have had something to do with the face Connor was pulling. Or his struggles to free himself from Spock's grip. He let the Human go and watched them scatter. Behind him, Jim leaned forwards into his back. Shock and exhaustion radiated from his body. Spock closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He released the tension in his body.

"No one's ever done that before." Jim spoke, face still mashed in Spock's jacket. Spock could feel him trembling, just slightly. It was concerning, something Spock didn't have much experience with. Humans, Jim in particular, found comfort in touch. Spock was only mildly comfortable with their current level of contact.

"That has happened often?" Spock asked, voice lowered to match Jim's. He was not aware of such a situation occurring previously. Although he was not exactly the most qualified, Spock was 93.89% certain that the other children admired Jim. They had certainly gone out of their way to invite him to group activities and talk to him during school hours. Jim would always decline such invitations but, rather than deterring them, they seemed to idolise him with greater intensity.

"Not since moving here. I- At home, Frank used to drink a lot. It made him angry. I made him angry." Jim murmured. He pulled away from Spock, ever mindful of his needs. If Spock previously considered the idea that Jim was an abuse victim distressing, confirming his suspicions increased the feeling exponentially.

"Did your mother not contact authorities?" Spock turned around to face Jim. He reached out and lifted Jim's chin gently, meeting watery blue eyes with his own. The tears somewhat startled him. He had never witnessed this particular aspect of Human emotionalism before. For a moment, Spock wondered if his mother ever cried. Alone on a planet, so far from her own species, her family, anyone who could understand her needs. It was likely. He didn't calculate the possibility.

"She doesn't care! I tried to kill myself and all she cared about was dad's car going off the cliff!" Jim yelled as he broke away from Spock's touch. He stood there, blonde bangs covering his eyes, each shuddering breath a herculean effort. It kept Spock immobilised as much as his desperately furious words did. The entirety of his Vulcan mind could barely comprehend anything past 'kill myself'. It was as if his brain had started a loop, the harsh words echoing over and over until they drove him mad.

"You drove an automotive vehicle off a cliff?" He clarified, an odd weight settling in his gut. A universe without Jim was incomprehensible. He had become one of the most prominent features in Spock's life.

"Yeah, it was dumb. I jumped right at the end. I couldn't let myself die when dad sacrificed everything to give me a proper chance." Jim's eyes burned as he caught Spock's gaze. "I couldn't let Frank win."

"A wise decision, Jim. I appreciate it most greatly." Spock replied impulsively. It was not something he often did but his mind was occupied with other tasks. Like storing the conversation away for meditation.

"I think that's the first time you've called me Jim." Jim rubbed his fist across his eyes. "My face hurts."

It looked like it. Where tears had escaped his eyes, red marks marred tanned skin. Spock decided it would be best to get Jim home. He was 89.38% sure that whatever he played for his mother would be appreciated. Jim's opinion, whilst important, was not imperative. His general health and safety however, was.

They trudged together through the light snow which had fallen sometime the previous night. The wind, which was picking up the closer they got to the river, drowned out any real attempt at conversation. They walked in almost perfect silence.

"Spock! Jim! What are you two doing here?" Liz's voice called from the porch. Spock saw the exact moment when Liz noticed the state of Jim's face. She paled and ran back to the open door, calling for her husband, Jonathan.

"Spock, sweetie, what happened? Are you alright, Jimmy?" Amanda rushed down the stairs. Her hands brushed against Spock's shoulder as she pushed him out of the way. She immediately began fussing over Jim. Not long after, Liz came running back out, Jonathan on her heels.

They swarmed Jim and pulled him into the house. Spock watched as Jim was pushed onto the couch. They grabbed at his hands and patted his cheeks. Liz got a blanket from upstairs while Amanda boiled tea and Jonathan stoked the fire.

Eventually, Amanda pulled Spock into the room and sat him beside Jim. They were subjected to a long line of questions. None of which Jim seemed interested in answering. After 20.24 minutes, they gave up.

"We're having a little Christmas dinner tomorrow night. Would you like to join us? I'm sure Jimmy would just love to have you." Liz asked, clapping her hands together and beaming. Beside him, Jim stiffened. It was not the reaction Spock would have expected.

 

* * *

 

Amanda brushed Spock's bangs back for the twenty sixth time that evening. Her gentle hands ran down his shoulders, smoothing out invisible wrinkles and readjusting the way the knitted charcoal fabric sat against his shoulders. He hands fluttered and rearranged the high neckline.

From the hallway, Sarek watched the interaction with his usual detached interest. At his feet, a plain black case housed his ka'athyra. In order to keep the present a surprise, Spock had to enlist Sarek's help. It was no easy task to hide something from someone who shared a telepathic bond with you. Vulcans were known for their inability to lie. However, a few had been known to learn the fine art of subtlety. Sarek was one of them. It was one of the many reasons why Sarek was such a successful ambassador.

Sarek tilted his head towards the door pointedly. Amanda huffed and shuffled into her heels. Sarek shepherded them out of the house and into their hovercar. It was one of few on Tarsus IV, due to the colony being so young. As such there was no other traffic on the roads. Only groups of people travelling from decorated home to decorated home. Some of the displays were aesthetically pleasing whilst others were simply painful to his sensitive eyes. His mother however, was enjoying herself. Her entire body was turned towards the window. Flashing lights reflected in her wide eyes. A smile curled her lips. For a moment, Spock could see the young woman in the photos on his father's bookshelves. She was... beautiful.

They arrived 3.68 minutes early. Spock and Sarek sat inside the car and reinforced their shields. Amanda had no problem getting out and walking up the porch steps. The golden glow from the windows illuminated her features.

Together, they walked the treacherous icy path to the porch steps. Sarek was as graceful and unruffled as ever. It was fortunate that Spock had learnt the correct technique the day before. He almost felt like he belonged.

"Oh Amanda! Merry Christmas, merry Christmas! Come inside and make yourself at home." Liz greeted, immediately pulling Amanda inside. They walked into the lounge while Sarek and Spock removed the copious layers Amanda had zipped them into. Three jackets was over zealous even factoring in their desert bred temperate requirements.

Walking into the lounge room, Spock's attention focused solely on the large tree in the corner. It was decorated with red and gold tinsel, stringed beads, coloured baubles, angels, fake candles, candy canes, wrapped chocolates, nuts. The whole tree was asymmetrical, listing severely to the right. It did resemble the pictures Spock had seen during his research. If he squinted and turned his head to the right.

"Hey" Jim said, coming over to stand beside Spock. A sweet bubbly drink rested in his hand. He looked between Spock and the tree. "I tried." he shrugged.

"Come on boys, grub's ready." Jonathan gestured them into the kitchen. Each were handed a dish and told to take them to the table.

Dinner went about as well as one would expect when two Vulcans and four Humans were celebrating an illogical, emotional holiday. Before Jim and Amanda figured out a common ground for Sarek and Jonathan, dinner was rather quiet. Vulcans did not practise small talk. It was not a comfortable pastime. Luckily, Jim connected the dots and got Jonathan talking about his work. Amanda prompted Sarek into talking about his studies from his time in the academy. It was something Spock had never heard before. Obviously, he was aware of Sarek's attendance however, they'd never talked about it.

Eventually, he and Jim had drawn up a warp core outline over three napkins. Their idea to change the hydrothermal subcortex conductors would require a liquid dilithium mixture. As Sarek had been fast to point out, that change would require a full rewrite for the tensile system. The discussion had left Jim more enthusiastic to finish their calculations, if only to prove Sarek wrong.

"Okay kiddos, present time if you will?" Liz shooed them out of the dining room to get the wrapped gifts from under the tree.

When Jim walked right, Spock went left. He continued out into the hall where his ka'athyra was under his coats. He opened it, running his fingers over the strings. Each was perfectly tuned, ready for his performance.

 

* * *

 

Spock watched as Jim bounded up the stairs. His parents were sitting with Liz and Jonathan, having settled quite naturally after his performance. With Jim gone, Spock was alone. It was not an unusual situation for him to find himself in. 98.76% of his attendances in social settings prompted with the same result. It was not unusual and yet, something intrinsic had changed. Some innate part of Spock had shifted. Whether it be prolonged exposure to Humans or one particular individual, Spock was not the same person he'd been when he arrived on Tarsus IV. There were things -feelings, emotions, instincts- which he could no longer control. In fact, he found that he no longer wanted to.

With that life changing realisation, Spock felt, for the first time in his life, free. He was no longer constrained by his Vulcan heritage, nor his Human 'half'. The dichotomy of his existence had not vanished. He still wished to follow the Surakian doctrine. He simply no longer required constant perfection from himself. It was, he mused, a much healthier outlook. One he hoped to share with Jim. He was the catalyst for such change, after all.

Without excusing himself, no one had noticed his continued presence regardless, Spock slipped upstairs. While Jim was occupying the bathroom, Spock let himself into the other boy's bedroom.

Closing the door behind him, he let himself yield to his natural curiosity. Starting at the desk and working his way around, Spock looked through the books left out. He scanned the three titles, Shakespeare, Stephen Hawking and S'Venten'ya. Three very different people from very different times. Each a genius in their own right. It was unsurprising material for Jim to read. He was a vibrant individual. Quite possibly the only individual Spock would expect to read poetry, advanced physics and Andorian psychology within the same time period.

Moving on, Spock briefly searched the bookshelf. Like the configuration in his father's study, Jim had several 'knick-knacks' displayed on the shelves. A photo of a man who looked remarkably like Jim holding a very pregnant woman, another child on his lap. A toy starship, the USS Kelvin if Spock wasn't mistaken. Two white wooden foxes. The smallest solar system display Spock had ever seen. And a folded piece of paper.

A piece of paper decorated with snowflakes, snowmen and elves.

He picked it up and sat on the edge of Jim's bed. The navy covers hugged his legs as he settled into the plush pillows. It smelt nice, a pleasant mix of soap, detergent and Jim.

Spock unfolded the paper and read the single word printed in a neat, unhurried script. He blinked, once, twice, thrice, in quick succession. The word remained the same. After so long struggling to keep his emotions locked away, Spock had stumbled across the perfect method. He needed Jim to surprise him enough that his higher functions shut down.

The door opened and Jim walked in. He took one look at Spock, or rather, the paper open in Spock's lap and paled.

"What. The. Fuck?" Jim growled. Spock watched from his place on the bed as Jim started pacing. Wisely, he said nothing. By now he knew that sometimes Humans needed some time to calm down before any kind of rationality could reach them. Jim was one of these people. Often, he would work himself up and calm himself back down.

Jim took seven calming breaths. And started to pace. It was new behaviour Spock filed away under the habits of James Kirk. No doubt it would be advantageous in the future. Humans, Jim in particular, were prone to such emotional displays.

"Why would you read that?" Jim finally spat, turning to face Spock once more. He raised a single eyebrow and glanced back down at the paper.

"Can you not? That's private." Jim snatched it away, scrunching it into a ball and tossing it in the bin.

"Why are you feeling embarrassed?" Spock questioned. Despite his outward agitated appearance, a profound sense of mortification was wafting off Jim. It reminded Spock how little he truly knew of Humans. They were a most fascinating species.

"Humans tend to get embarrassed when people find out they have feelings for them." Jim said, hands clenched at his sides. He seemed to be waiting for Spock's rejection if the stiff line of his shoulders and hunched way he was standing, were anything to judge by. Spock was less shocked than earlier. Truthfully, it was something that had passed through his mind when he'd read his name. As a Vulcan, he was not prone to making assumptions.

"I had not comprehended the emotional significance of writing such a thing." From the pocket of his slacks, Spock pulled his own 'wish' out. He handed the paper to Jim. It was only 'fair'.

Jim's brows scrunched as he looked over the Golic script. Before he could ask, Spock moved forwards and rested his forehead against Jim's. The contact seemed to calm him somewhat.

"At the age of seven, Vulcans are telepathically linked to our future spouse. These bonds are the staple for our minds. The more compatible our minds, the more stable our katra, our soul." He explained.

"Forget it." Jim tried to pull away but Spock held him close, not relinquishing their contact. The tempting pull of Jim's mind was there, brushing against his shields.

"James, I have an eidetic memory. I can not forget it." Spock said as he began to systematically lower his shields. "Nor do I wish to."

Their minds connected superficially. Although the link was light, it was the strongest non-melded connection he'd ever formed. He let Jim's wonder and happiness flow through him. It seemed they'd both be getting their wishes this Christmas.

 

 


End file.
